During a recent personal trip to Pennsylvania, I realized that my husband’s passing had imparted a sense of humor to me that was so black and dark that others simply refuse to understand it. The trip was overall a successful one–most of my time was spent visiting with family and friends. There was only one hiccup throughout the entire weekend, when I was sitting in a local bar with a mixed group of about seven friends and acquaintances:
Friend: What do you do when you’re out with your friends and some weird guy comes onto you and will NOT take the hint and leave you alone?
Me: Well…I have a comment, but it will probably only be appropriate to me…
Friend: No, go ahead…we all know each other here…
Me: (said in the most sarcastic way possible) Just tell the guy that your husband just died. I *guarantee* that no one else will hit on you for the rest of the night.
(insert sounds of crickets chirping, tumbleweeds rolling, and jaws hitting the table here)
Looks like I need to work on a few things before I’m approved for a mixed social setting again. Yeah.